


Guardian

by lsakyaki



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Grahamscott, M/M, Slow Burn, alcohol ment, and a fight mention, blood ment, drug ment, jefferson doesnt exist, mention of drugs, mild gore?, rated teen for literally like. one curse word, self indulgent, sorry bnsdgha, sorry im a sucker for these good wonderful boys, the stuff with jefferson didnt happen, this will prolly be like 3-4 chapters, will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-13 01:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18459074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsakyaki/pseuds/lsakyaki
Summary: In which Jefferson DOESN'T fuckin exist, but Nathan is still a sad kidand Warren just wants him happy.





	1. Wisdom

Nathan Prescott wasn't sure when the notes started.  
Maybe they'd started a few months ago, maybe the beginning of the school year.  
Again, he wasn't sure. He was too busy drowning himself in booze and drugs. Anything to escape the mentality he had adapted. He didn't like being mentally ill.  
Nathan was having a rough year. A rough life.  
He was sobbing in his room, furiously tearing at his hair, clawing at his face. He kept seeing it. Everything he did wrong. Everything that he had done, from nearly shooting Chloe Price, to headbutting Warren Graham.  
That's when the notes started.  
At first, he didn't pay any mind to them being slid under his door, not bothering to even open or read them. But after the third one, he gives in and reluctantly opens the small pieces of paper.  
'Hey! I know times seem rough right now, but you'll get through it.  
\- Eule'  
'I'm proud of you for being here! You're doing great today.  
\- Eule'  
'I suppose I should explain who I am. I'm sort of an.. acquaintance. I'm going to keep sending you these until you figure out who I am, OR you start feeling better. Every day. Have fun!  
\- Eule'  
Nathan huffs in amusement, and then scowls. Was someone really going to keep doing this? Why did the name sound familiar?  
He watches as another note is pushed through the slot of his door. He snatches it up.  
'Hey. Don't forget to drink some water and eat today! All the drinking and drugs you do isn't healthy. I care about you.  
\- Eule'  
Nathan has the urge to listen to this mystery person. It obviously had to be someone in the boys' dorm, right? He squints at the paper, attempting to decipher the handwriting, grunting when he realized it was all typed except for the name. He couldn't recall /anyone's/ handwriting looking like that.  
Shaking his head, he drives to the Two Whales, and orders a big breakfast with some orange juice. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until a chocolate chip pancake hit his tongue.  
He scarfed the food down in minutes.  
He'd have to thank Eule later.  
Now back in his room, Nathan thought. Why did Eule sound so familiar?  
That was what Google was for, he supposed. A quick search brought the dirty blond to a German-English dictionary.  
Owl. Why owl? He supposed he'd have to Google that, too.  
At first, the results kept popping up with 'femininity and fertility'. He highly doubted that Eule was one of his female friends. (Victoria. No way she'd pull this shit.) It had to be someone in the boys' dorm. A bit further, a spirit animal guide came up.  
"Symbolic meanings for the owl are: - Intuitive knowledge. The ability to see what others do not. Change. Wisdom. A guardian." The list followed on. He supposed that was what it was.  
Maybe this person was someone he had talked to before? Maybe someone he hadn't talked to before?  
All Nathan knew was that he didn't appreciate having a potential stalker, someone who had obviously been watching him. He pulled at his hair nervously, gritting his teeth in frustration.  
But he had dealt with stalkers enough to know that Eule wasn't one. Eule actually gave a damn about him, had watched over him, made him smile- and not a fake one, either. Eule didn't care about him or ask him for drugs, booze, money. He wasn't fake.  
Eule cared.  
'Hello, birdie! I hope you've taken your meds today?  
\- Eule'  
'You're looking a lot better, this month. It makes me happy you're doing great. Keep up the good work, okay?  
\- Eule'  
'Hey. You looked rather upset. Here's something to cheer you up, I hope.  
\- Eule'  
The last note contained a little drawing of a whale. In ink, not typed, or clip art. Nathan clutched the note so hard the paper wrinkled, shaking violently. He traced a bloodied hand across his shoulder, his face, his nose. Blood smeared across his pale skin, but he didn't mind. Nathan had gotten into a fight. He wasn't sure how it all started.  
He thought, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to will the memory into his mind.  
Nathan sat on the girls' dorm steps, talking to Victoria. A note from Eule was in his hand as he talked about the owl to her, Vic obviously not paying attention. He remembered a guy walking down the sidewalk, snatching up the note, reading it and then making fun of Nathan.  
And then static.  
His ears rang angrily, and he snarled, punching the wall beside him. His chest rose and fell quickly as he heaved, letting out a choked sob.  
He picked up a stress ball he had, and threw it, the object ricocheting against the wall, and cracking a photo on his desk.  
"Fuck!"  
He slumps defeatedly against his door, body wracking with sobs. A feathery touch ghosts his lower back, and he turns. A note. And he can see a shadow underneath the door.  
'Hey, little bird. Do you need to talk? I'm outside, but please don't open your door. I don't want you knowing who I am.  
\- Eule'  
It wasn't written in text this time. The handwriting was a bit loose, but neat. He squints.  
He didn't recognize the writing. At least, not right now.  
Another sob bubbled in his throat as he choked out everything to the figure behind the door, from the fight to him throwing things and getting angry.  
Light fluttering against his hand. The owl had managed to wedge his hand under the door, gently thumbing over Nathan's hurt hand, followed by a bandage.  
He wrapped it slowly around his finger. Another bandage. Another finger. All five of his middle knuckles were taped in little whale bandages.  
But it seemed the person behind the door wasn't done yet. A roll of adhesive bandage and tape followed suit, a small sticky note attached. On the note was a silly drawing of an owl kissing a whale with a bandage on its flipper. Nathan lets out a gentle chuckle, sniffling and wiping tears from his eyes. He slowly wraps his hand in the bandage, flexing and curling his hand. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome." The person behind the door responds. Nathan freezes up.  
Warren?  
Nathan shoots up, gripping the door handle as he watches shadowy footsteps retreat. He swings it open.  
Nobody in the hallway, but he was sure that the person behind the door was, indeed..  
Warren Graham.


	2. Intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warren laments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry i'm going down with grahamscott  
> also i just... heavily project onto warren so i hope you all dont mind?  
> he has anxiety/depression but hes high functioning and medicated qvq

Warren felt sick to his stomach as he rushed back to his dorm room, head spinning.   
He really just revealed himself to the person that probably hated him the most.  
"You fucking.. Dumbass!" He chastises himself, pulling at his hair.   
Warren remembered /exactly/ when he started writing those notes. At first, he was going to tell him off anonymously, but then Nathan came into the dorms, drunk after a Vortex party. He could make out faint sobbing. Nathan had collapsed in front of Warren's dorm, obviously blackout drunk, otherwise he wouldn't have been sobbing his eyes out.  
Warren knew he could easily take a picture of this, blackmail the rich kid, but..  
A part of him felt bad. Absolutely horrible.   
Warren swung open his dorm room door, practically cradling the drunk Prescott. Nathan started to blabber about his father, about his psychosis and bipolar disorder, furiously clutching at the blond locks he owned.   
Warren had to practically peel Nathan's hands off of his head, fearing he'd tear chunks out of his scalp.   
Warren remembered letting out quiet, gentle words as Nathan mumbled about not being on his meds, thinking he could live without them, but everything was slowly getting worse for him. He was getting into more fights, getting angrier, more impulsive, more suicidal.   
That's when Warren decided to become the owl. Helping Nathan to his room, his mind began to race. Mumbling out a quick "Feel better soon, Nate." To the blond, he rushes back to his room.   
Warren wanted to heavily research animals in any way he could, hoping to be as anonymous as possible.  
He recalled overhearing Samuel and Max talk about spirit animals.  
Maybe that'd be a good place to start.  
He had thought, and thought... and thought some more.  
A cat?   
No, that'd be way too obvious.  
A snake?  
Out of character.  
An owl..?  
Perfect. Owls were normally interpreted as wise, right? Intuitive? Perfect.  
Taking a deep breath, he squinted. 'Owl' was such a boring name. Luckily for Warren, he had at least taken a year of German. Eule was much nicer, he thinks to himself.  
He had begun to scribble out a note, pausing. The handwriting looked too much like his. Nathan was sure he would know, especially since they had Mrs. Grant together. He tugged at his hair, scratched at it nervously, before snapping his fingers.  
His computer! He could type it, and Nathan would be none the wiser!  
Laughing quietly to himself, he began tacking away.   
The memory ends there. Warren bitterly swallows air, wringing his hands. Nathan would be pissed to know that it was him, a nerd who had been sending him those messages.   
What would Nathan Prescott want with a loser like him, anyways?   
Nothing. That's what. Prescott had the whole world in his hand, not to mention he had gotten beaten up for defending Max after the deal with Chloe.   
He still couldn't understand who in their right mind would threaten to kill someone after taking a joke photo! Geez...  
But Nathan /wasn't/ in a right state of mind. Mental illness was no small issue, Warren could understand that. He had problems of his own. Social anxiety coupled with depression was no fun. He honestly couldn't imagine what Nathan was going through.   
That's why he wanted to help. He wanted Nathan to feel loved, understood, cared for. The same support his parents and his friends had shown him all this time.  
He had a feeling Nathan didn't get that. He pushed people away, was aggressive. Stubborn. Hopefully this helped him come out of his shell a little more-  
or made him feel a bit safer.  
But still! He had made a mistake. He had spoken to him. Spoken to someone who didn't know he cared, didn't know he was keeping a watchful eye on him.  
God, he was disgusting. He shouldn't have done anything, have kept watch so closely.  
Or.. Maybe Nathan didn't recognize his voice. God, he hoped that was true.  
It was getting late. Warren decided to go to sleep, despite the anxiety bubbling in his stomach, threatening to over-spill. 

\---  
Laughter. Gentle, soft laughter.  
Nathan's laugh. Nathan was laughing.   
Warren was curled up at the blond's side, his face buried in his white shirt. "Uuuurgh. Nathan please stop laughing, it's not funny."  
"Not funny?! War, you getting scared over a fucking doll turning her head had to have been the most hilarious thing I've seen this year!"  
"I hate youuuu!" Warren groans playfully, giving a gentle tap on his shoulder.   
Nathan sighs, content. "Hey Warren?"  
"Yeah, Nate?"  
"I love you."  
Warren blushes as he feels his throat constrict.  
"I love you too, Nathan."  
He can see the blond lean forward, illuminated by the light of the overhead projector that was playing the movie in his room.  
He so desperately wants to close that gap, wants to feel Nathan’s mouth against his.  
Time stops.  
This was a dream, wasn’t it? It wasn’t real. Warren could feel disappointment coat his tongue like a poison, and he shudders. He only cared about Nathan, right? Just cared!  
But this was the 5th consecutive dream Warren had about this.  
Him and Nathan dating.  
He couldn’t comprehend the fact that this was happening, let alone for someone who /didn’t/ dream.  
When he started writing those stupid notes for him, being careful to be as honest and sincere as possible- (Well, as he could be, being anonymous and all…) They started. Those fucking dreams. Plaguing his sleep, a sickeningly sweet perfume that wouldn’t go away.  
The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he wouldn’t mind.  
He wouldn’t mind holding Nathan’s hand, or reminding him to take his meds in person, being proud when he did so,  
Praising him when he had a bad time and resolved it with peace rather than violence, going on dates at the Two Whales with him, arguing over who had to pay the bill,  
Driving down to the beach, stargazing, making him annoyed (in a good way!) over how many constellations he knew, staring at clouds and saying which one looked like a monkey's ass and which one didn’t,  
Stealing his camera and taking a quick photo of himself, holding hands and resting his head on Nathan’s shoulder as they watched movies together, hell, even /kissing/ Nathan sounded amazing. Maybe he did…

 

Warren Graham shoots up from his bed, gasping. His face was warm, to the touch. He shakes his head.  
He can't be. Please don’t be.  
Warren didn't just /care/ for Nathan.  
He /liked/ him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this chapter was about 200 words shorter, i think. i felt bad for making it so short ngl.. have some sweet filler for now

**Author's Note:**

> hey yes God please no more jefferscott fanfics thanks.  
> also this was something a little self indulgent! so i hope this is alright?


End file.
